Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 (41 page)

              “All right, I think this trip has been going on for long enough.”  Taking hold of one of the control sticks with her left hand, she activated the navigation system with her free hand.  Doing some quick calculations, assisted by her implants, she recalculated a course using the shuttle’s maximum acceleration.  They’d have to break sooner and harder, but with this new course, it would cut the flight time by more than forty percent, cutting twenty hours to slightly more than twelve.  After they unloaded the collector, topped off the shuttle’s fuel tanks, and then filled up the cargo fuel tanks in the shuttle’s hold, they’d be back on the road as it were.  She worked out a rough course and speed, again using the best acceleration possible for the return trip, which wouldn’t be as good, since the shuttle’s mass would be much higher due to the helium 3 fuel being carried.  Instead of a seventy hour trip back, they could make it in forty-three.

              Tamara nodded to herself. 
Yeah, it will burn a fair amount of the shuttle’s fuel and put some strain on the little ship itself, but cutting more than a day off the trip will be worth it.  Besides,
she thought with a smile slowly spreading over her lips,
I don’t have any orders to the contrary.  And I really should be getting the both of us back to the ship and get started on the serious refit.

              “All right, people, we’re going to do this slow and by the numbers,” Quesh barked to the crew at large.  All but three members of the Engineering crew who were manning the watch in Main Engineering, and one more in Environmental, were gathered in the damaged section of the ship, all of them ready with tools, their skinsuits donned and closed up. 

              “It’s not going to be easy,” he went on, “And I know there are going to be a few scary moments.  But I want you to remember your training.  And double check everything.”  He nodded.  “So, let’s get to it.  I want the outer hull plating uncoupled and detached in four hours in this section.  I have both shuttles standing by to assist in rescue ops, but you’re all going to be staying with your buddy and you’re going to make sure your tether lines are secured, do you get me?”

              “Yes, Chief,” the chorus of acknowledgements answered.

              And so the work began.  Over the next few hours, the techs uncoupled the hull plating in the entire area of the ship, leaving it completely exposed to space.  In addition to the hull plating, there were a number of other things that had to be disassembled and rerouted, including conduits, ducts, wiring and other things.  It was a long process that took over three days to complete, after which the
Grania Estelle
had one section that was completely open to space, and she looked as though her ribs were sticking out of a portion of the torso that had all the flesh removed.  

              A host of bots swarmed over the trusses and supporting beams, their scanners running full blast.  The damage was paradoxically both minimal and severe.  By looking with the naked eye, the trusses and beams looked to be okay, but as the scanners ran over the metal, hundreds of microfractures and cracks could be detected.  Almost all of the trusses here would need to be cut out and replaced with new ones. 

              It was a six-week job, possibly more if anything went wrong.  The replicators were already churning out replacement trusses, sadly they had to be done in small sections, but that actually worked out for the best.  It forced the techs to take the job in small bites, which of course caused them to work slowly.  The Captain didn’t care for the slow pace, but he cared to have his crew injured or the work done sloppily even less.  He closed his mouth over his objections and the amount of money he would be losing by staying put and let Quesh and his engineers carry on with the job.

              On the sixteenth day of the refit, the
Grania Estelle
was looking extremely odd to the naked eye.  Her ribs were poking out from the metal of the hull, exposed like a set of deformed fangs.  The bulk of the damaged crossbeams had been torn out in that section, leaving only the stubs of sheared off teeth behind.  New trusses were being brought forth from cargo bay eight by shuttle, which had to be flown out only two at a time and unloaded with care as not to smash into the other technicians or bash into the hull.  The long metal beams had to maintenance bots clamped on to help steady them with their maneuvering jets, and were manhandled by the six of the crew into position.  From there, they were held firmly in place with magnetic clamps and then bolted and welded down.  It was an agonizingly slow process, but no one wanted a mishap. 

              The strange part about the new metal beams was their color.  The rocks in this system that were being used to make the trusses had some impurities in the metal, impurities which made no difference to the strength of the beams being constructed, but made them shine like silver spars.  Once the trusses were formed, they were coated with protective paint, which for some reason came out clear and then they were slotted and then attached into place.  The
Grania Estelle
was going to have a silver girdle when all was said and done, first with the trusses and beams and then with the new hull plating, something that Ka’Xarian commented was “befitting a proper lady”.  Tamara and Stella both approved, while Quesh only grunted a small chuckle at the joke.

              On day seventeen, Vincent Eamonn was on a trip to the station when he heard a voice bellowing from across the way.  He turned, one hand on the tiny holdout pistol he carried inside his jacket.  Saiphirelle, ever at his side while on his sojourns to the station, on his buying trips and attempts to drum up more business.  So far, Vincent had managed to sell more of the helium 3 fuel his crew had collected, as well as a handful of the software cleanser packages.  The station networks were still riddled with viruses and other malware, but the station authorities refused to purchase any of the Captain’s wares, in fact aside from the fuel, they were refusing to have anything to do with him.

              But when they turned, they saw a face that brought a smile to Vincent’s.  “Well, well, well, Administrator Galina, how nice to see you here.”

              The elder lupusan stepped forward out of the crowd of shoppers on the mezzanine.  She looked the same as she always did, her fur tinged with silver and gray, a bit more perhaps than the last time they’d met.  She wasn’t as tall as
Grania Estelle
’s security officers, and she still had a lean, wiry frame.  It wasn’t possible to look at her face and see a gentle elder, even for the Administrator of a hospital ship, she was still a canine.  She was dressed in a set of robes, brown with white trim.  The cuffs of her long sleeves were embroidered with gold loops, denoting her rank.  It was a different outfit than the last one Vincent had seen her wear.

              “Captain Eamonn, it is very good to see you again,” she replied, her voice a husky contralto, as usual. 

              He smiled, removing his hand from his weapon.  “You’ve been ducking me for weeks, Administrator.  I was beginning to think that you were hiding.  Not something I’d expect from a lupusan.”

              Saiphirelle flicked her ears, growling slightly, edging just the slightest distance closer to her captain, flexing her hands a bit, as though warming up for a fight.

              But Galina didn’t rise to the bait.  She only smiled and huffed out a laugh.  “I’m terribly sorry about that, Captain.  I’ve been busy; shipboard business.  I’m sure you understand.”

              He smiled back.  “Of course, I understand perfectly.”  He beckoned.  “You flagged me down; do you have time to go to the food court and get something to eat, or a cup of coffee?”

              She smiled a bit more.  “I would like that, Captain.  We have a few things to talk about.”

Chapter 14

              They settled into a small café off the main shopping concourse in the mezzanine.  It was a bit cramped, but there were only two other customers in the place.  It was a simple affair, six tables and a long counter with seven more stools.  The café which went by the name Rothran’s, served breakfast foods for various species, including human, zheen and Severite.  The proprietor, a zheen with the odd moniker of Krunchy served them each a cup of coffee, a drink that each of them could consume and metabolize without issue.  Vincent sipped his, tried to hide a grimace.  He’d never been here before, and he knew that he wouldn’t be coming here again.  Apparently, Krunchy’s idea of good coffee involved a multicolored sheen floating on top of the dark sludge.  He’d paid far more than this cup of weak engine lubricant was worth.  Vincent set his cup down on the table and didn’t touch it again.

              “You don’t like the coffee?” Galina sounded amused.  “And you’re not joining us?” she asked of Saiphirelle.

              “I’m not drinking that shit,” the younger lupusan declared.  The zheen stuck his head out from behind the counter, shaking a carapace covered fist.  She rumbled in her throat at him, daring Krunchy to say something more.  He wisely did not.  “Besides, I’m watching the boss’s back.”  She gave the Administrator a smug look.

              “Children,” the Administrator murmured into her coffee cup, slurping out some of the dark liquid.  She too grimaced, flattening her ears to her head.  “That is awful,” she said, setting the cup gently down on the metal table. 

              Now it was Eamonn’s turn to look amused.  “I meant what I said earlier, Administrator.  It is very good to see you again.  I was concerned about you after Ulla-tran.”

              Galina hung her head.  “That was a horrible time, Captain.  My ship was still a day from the hyper limit when the pirates closed on the fueling station.  I remember wondering if they were going to turn from that direction and come after us.”

              “Instead of coming after
us
, you mean!” Saiphirelle demanded, fire blazing in her eyes as she leaned very far onto the table, her palms flat on the metal surface.  “Most of our crew
died
while you ran away, you
coward!
”

              “Easy, Sai,” Eamonn said soothingly.  He didn’t move from his chair, he made no attempt to touch her, and he made sure to keep his gaze on Galina.  After a moment of aggressive posturing, the security officer moved back onto her chair, her gaze just boiling with menace.  As she’d pulled back, her fingers had clenched, her claws digging furrows into the tabletop, leaving little curlicues of metal behind.

              “My ship is a hospital vessel, young one,” Galina said, not flinching from the obviously worked-up Saiphirelle.  “As you know, we have no weapons, minimal shields and slow engines.  My crew are doctors, nurses, orderlies and the rest who actually run the ship.  We would have been able to do nothing if the pirates attacked us.  Nothing except die.”

              The other lupusan barked in resentment.  Clearly she didn’t want to be forgiving, not after so many of her fellow security personnel and friends had been killed aboard ship.

              “Luckily, we managed to make it to the hyper limit and made the jump here.  As I understand, we only arrived a short time before you did, Captain.”

              “Yes, that’s correct, just a few days.”  Eamonn started to reach for the coffee cup again, but remembered before he lifted it from the table.

              Galina dropped her gaze to the tabletop.  “I am very glad that you and your ship managed to get away from those pirates.”  She sounded genuinely contrite.

              Saiphirelle growled.  “A lot of our people didn’t.  And the ship took a lot of damage getting here.”

              Now Galina looked up, spearing the younger lupusan with a glare.  “And what would you have liked me to have done, young one?” she spat.  “In my unarmed ship with my crew full of doctors?  We had no weapons on board, no soldiers.”  Galina stared into Saiphirelle’s eyes.  “And before you say it, yes, I am a lupusan and there are three of my crewmen who are also.  I’m sure you are going to say that we could have fought.  But we had nothing to fight with.  A boarding party would have swept the decks clean with their guns and then the pirates would have captured
two
ships.”

              Saiphirelle started to lean forward, a sneer on her mouth, but Eamonn raised a hand, forestalling her.  “Sai, not now.  I know you’re upset, but the Administrator is right.  Her ship and her crew would have stood very little chance against the pirates, even less than we did and we lost the ship.  It was only through luck and grace of the stars that we managed to get it back.”

              The lupusan rumbled in her throat, but she nodded and leaned back in her chair.

              Galina turned her gaze to the human.  “Thank you, Captain.  It was very gallant of you to try and save us from them, and I know it couldn’t have been easy knowing that you were sailing right into their hands.”  She sighed.  “I only wish I had something I could repay you with.”

              Vincent’s eyes narrowed.  “What do you mean?”

              She eyed him, a sad smile on her face.  “You know perfectly well what I mean, Captain.  The government is not going to pay you anything for the overhauls you made on my ship.  Hell, it isn’t even my ship anymore.  It’s been reclaimed under eminent domain laws.”

              “Reclaimed?”

              “The government saw all of the shiny new repairs you made to the
Kara
, Captain and they seized my ship, gave me my walking papers.”  Galina’s voice was bitter.

              “I’m so sorry, Administrator,” he said and he meant it.  He couldn’t imagine a bureaucracy that wouldn’t step forward to snatch up a prize like the
Kara
, especially in a system with very few working spacecraft.  Especially…  “Wait, what are they doing with it?”

              Galina’s smile grew broader.  “I see you’ve figured it out.  They’ve sent in teams of engineers who are busy stripping my ship down to the bulkheads.  Specifically, they’re tearing out the fusion reactor and the power distribution network and they’re transferring it over to…” she broke off.

              “To the battlecruiser?” he guessed, though he was certain he was right.  Saiphirelle looked much more interested now.

              “A civilian grade reactor in a warship?” the lupusan asked, puzzled.  “Why the hell would they want that?”

              “I don’t know anything for certain,” Galina admitted.  “No one has been allowed aboard the
Leytonstone
who doesn’t have security clearance and very few do.  But on our approach to the station, I had
Kara
scan the local area, to make sure it was clear of debris, shuttles, or other obstructions that might be a hazard to navigation.  My sensor operator got a bit overzealous and scanned the battlecruiser.”  She hesitated again.

              “And what did you find?”

              “That battlecruiser is a wreck,” she said simply.  “They’re running on station power, which is why they want parts and equipment from the
Kara
.”

              “I see.”  Vincent pursed his lips.  “I doubt that power is the only problem with that ship, but I’m no engineer.  The scans we got confirm what you said.  I think that the ship is as you say a wreck.”  He trailed off. 

              Saiphirelle barked a small laugh.  “Oh, I know that look.”

              Eamonn smiled back at her.  “Yes, I know you do.”

              Galina flicked her ears.  “Care to fill me in?”

              He shrugged.  “I’m just wondering what the local government would pay to fix up that ship.”

              The Administrator nodded slowly.  “You could fix it up like you did the
Kara
?”

              The Captain shrugged.  “Well, the last time I had a much bigger crew and my own ship wasn’t undergoing a major overhaul.  This time, other things are going on, so it would be much more of a difficult business proposition.  I have my replicators running full blast on
Grania Estelle
’s repairs, but I’m sure I could divert some resources to getting some replacement parts for the… what was it you called the warship?”

              “The
Leytonstone
, Captain,” Galina replied.  She narrowed her eyes, looking at nothing.  “So, you make the parts that the battlecruiser needs, the government pays you handsomely for them, and where does that leave me?  I’m still without my ship and even if they reinstated me, the power core and distribution system have been gutted.  It’ll be six to eight months minimum before
Kara
could fly again.”

              He eyed her.  “Administrator, forgive me.  What exactly is the purpose of the
Kara
?  I understand she’s a hospital ship, but…”  He sighed.  “I guess I don’t understand what it is you’re trying to accomplish.  Not the ship.  You.”

              The lupusan took a breath and looked away.  “I worked in the Medical Corps for twelve years, Captain.  I managed a hospital down on the surface for another eight, then I was transferred to the
Kara
.  I was Administrator there for another three years.  We’d gone to four different planets to administer medical care, and had moved onto the fifth when we had reactor issues.  We’d been there for a while when you found us.”  She sighed.  “I’ve grown to love that clunky box of a ship, Captain.  We’d made a difference on those four planets.  We saved a lot of lives.  And I want to help more.”  She nodded to herself.  “But I don’t think that’s going to happen now.  Not after what they did with my ship.”

              “Maybe, maybe not,” Eamonn replied.  “Let me talk to a few people.  See what I can do.”

              She looked at him skeptically.  “What exactly do you think you’re going to do, Captain?  If you are that busy aboard your own ship with repairs, exactly how much in the way of replacement parts do you think you’ll be able to make?  And how much do you think that Seylonique’s governing council is going to shell out for these parts?”

              He frowned at her.  “I have a question along those lines, Administrator.  Why exactly was your ship sent out to these other planets?  Oh, I understand that you were helping the sick and injured, but who was paying for it?  The government here?”

              Her ears lowered to her head and Saiphirelle chuckled.  “In part.  We also worked on donations made from the worlds we helped.  That accounted for about forty percent of my operating funds.”

              Eamonn raised an eyebrow.  “I’m guessing you’d been working at a deficit for a while then.”

              Galina glowered at him.  “It’s been a difficult few years.  The Argos Cluster is rife with illness and poor medical care.”

              The captain nodded.  “Yes, it is, Administrator.  But it’s also pretty light on people that are willing to pay for those things.  A lot of them would, but don’t have the means.  I know what that’s like.  I’ve had a few trading opportunities that fell through simply because the people I was trading with simply couldn’t afford what I was selling.”

              “But there’s a difference between our missions, though, Captain.  I’m giving most of what we do away for free.  If the people are able and willing to donate funds I will accept them, but I don’t ask for them.  Neither do any of the doctors who work with the sick and injured.”  She was very firm about that.

              He nodded, smiling sardonically.  “Well, yeah, I’m a bit more…”

              “Money grubbing?” Saiphirelle put in helpfully, smirking.

              Vincent turned to her, smiling.  “Quiet, you.”  He looked back to the Administrator.  “Let me see what I can find out.”

              Galina nodded.  “I’ll knock on a few doors and see if I can get
you
in touch with people that might want be interested in some… conversations.”

              “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

              Tamara finished her latest weld and checked the work, scanning with her sensors in her implants as well as the manual scanner she pulled up off her tool belt.  Everything looked good, the tack was solid, the beam was secure.  Hooking the scanner, a blocky box with a half-meter long antenna and palm-sized display back on her belt, she pressed the comms control on her suit’s left forearm.  “Quesh, this is Samair.  I’m done with my part on this one.  You can detach the maintenance bots for the next round.”

              “Copy that, Samair,” the Parkani’s gruff voice came back.  “Good work.  I saw the sensor feeds from your scanner.  We’re almost done with that rib.”

              “Twenty-eight to go once this one’s done,” she replied ruefully.  The work was slow going, but even though the Captain had been breathing down their necks about it, none of the engineering teams were willing to compromise either safety of their teams or structural integrity of the ship by rushing.

              “Yeah, well, I want it done right.”